


All Play And No Work

by Soul4Sale



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Double Entendres, Gay, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Poor music skills, Slash, Yaoi, huge age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper and Scout may call it saxophone practice, but that is most certainly not what Weylon is blowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Play And No Work

**Author's Note:**

> Just been wanting to write little things. xD And this turned out much larger than I had originally intended, but that’s okay. I hope you guys like it, it’s probably too much fun to write. xD Again, in case you aren’t sure, the huge age gap mentioned is 37 years. 20 year old Weylon, here, and 57 year old Richie. Weylon being Scout, Richie being Sniper, Jim being Soldier, Johan is Medic, James is Demoman.
> 
> Prompt: Write a story or poem in which playing a musical instrument is a metaphor for sexual relations.

“Und vhat are you so intent on?” This was probably the fifteenth time during this surgery that Johan had to push Weylon back to the steel table, “If you continue to misbehafe, I am goingk to have to strap you down.”

“Oh, yanno, doc, jus’... I been practicin’ the sax with Richie, an’ I’mma be late--” Pushed back again, by his chest, with insistent fingers, the blonde gave a rough sigh.

“You can’t be practicingk a musical instrument if your lower intestines are all over the floor. Let me finish.” Trying to be soothing, the Medic offered a thinly concealed smirk as he headed to his mounted gun, firing it off at the other’s rent open stomach. Things situated themselves back where they’d come from, and the flesh knit back together easily enough, but, of course, the ever-impatient scout was about ready to take off as soon as the healing light dissipated.

The runner was off like a shot the second the OK was given, speeding out to the camper that housed his musical teacher.

Honestly, however, the saxophone was _far_ from the kid’s mind when he nearly flew through the door and pit their tongues against one another in a fight for dominance. Of course, he’d eventually slip into his comfortable role of submission as soon as he didn’t feel such a throbbing desire to prove he wasn’t some pushover wannabe.

It wasn’t for a few weeks that his little stunt in the medbay came back to bite him in the ass. 

“Ah, Veylon!” Johan exclaimed, catching the runner by the shoulders and steering him into the commonroom, “I vas talkingk veez Dale, und he said he didn’t know you could play an instrument! Apparently, nobody but Richie seems to…” _Shit_ , the scout thought, _I sure as shit can’t._

“Yeah, Kiddo,” The Engineer in question spoke up, leaning on one hand as the other held up some cards. He seemed to be schooling James and Jim, both the Demoman and Soldier, respectively, in Go Fish. “Didn’t know you two played. Both of you on the sax?”

“Uh… Yeah, man. I mean, we’re pretty kick-ass music… Playin’ dudes.” He didn’t even seem to _known_ the word ‘musician’. Rubbing the back of his neck, he was about to bolt when Johan’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

“You two should play for us sometime.” Jim piped up, throwing his cards down, “You two win, this game is ridiculous.”

Oh, this was bad.

Weylon had to try and keep his speed at a reasonable pace, which meant that he had to do anything but dead sprinting, on his way back to the camper where his usual ‘lessons’ were.

“‘Ey, Snipes?” Originally, the question was meant to just make sure that the other was in the Camper. As soon as the affirmative grunt from the passenger’s seat was heard, the Bostonian set in on a rather quick-worded barrage of verbiage, “They frickin’ _know_ , man! I sorta told Johan that you were teachin’ me to play the sax? And now everyone’s sayin’ we should play for them! I don’t know how to play the frickin’ _saxophone_!” 

It took a few minutes for the sleepy Austrlian to fully understand the scout’s mile-a-minute words, but once he seemed to have pieced it all together, he gave a soft chuckle and pushed out of his slouch, coming into the main body of his little room. Gently corralling the smaller man into his arms, head against his chest, he smirked as he pet through the short hairs at the base of the other’s neck.

“Woah, Roo. Jus’ calm down, yeah?” He mumbled into the other’s baseball cap, trying to hide his amusement so as not to work the other up even worse. “I think I can solve our problem.”

After some more debating, some frenzied lessons that _actually_ pertained to learning instead of pleasure (which Weylon was sorely missing), and a few discussions with their fellow BLUs, the date of the impromptu concert was decided. In a week, Weylon and Richie would be playing their (rather quickly obtained) saxophones for the entire squad, and the scout had more than a few second thoughts on the matter. 

Of course, the night of the concert left Weylon nervous and fidgety, so vastly different from his usual stature that, for the majority of the day and evening, he hardly left his lover’s arms. 

“Do we really gotta do this, Rich?” He questioned, voice low as the elder helped him adjust the beat-up sax hanging from the neck strap, “I mean, couldn’t we just--”

“Come clean?” The thought alone nearly brought tears to his eyes. Them? Clean? What a riot. “I don’t know, Roo. You think you could handle the blow to your ego when everyone teases you for being ass over tit for an old man?” Nearly cooing it in the younger man’s ear, he relished in the blush it produced, just as the makeshift curtains they had set up on the ‘stage’ were tugged asside.

“You maggots--” Jim paused dead in his tracks, staring at the pair, before very quickly stepping out and back. While most people didn’t usually fear the scout, the dark glint in his eye was enough to make even a slightly intelligent man disappear silently.

“I still can’t--”

“You’ll do fine, love. Promise.” 

_That_ was a broken promise, if the blonde had ever heard one. The loud squawks and squeaks of the instrument he so desperately tried to milk music from nearly echoed in the base. For a moment, everyone was sure that the REDs would come over either to stop the noise or to laugh at this pitiful little ‘concert’. Somehow, Richie managed to carry them through the first few bars, but after a moment their horrid pseudo-music dissolved into pitiful laughter.

Their captive audience sat in stunned silence, but even that didn’t last very long before everyone was laughing. In the sudden whirl of bodies and hands flooding the stage, Richie’s shoulders were clapped by several of the other men, who couldn’t get over how much of a shitty teacher he was. On the other hand, Weylon received jarring jabs and rubbed shoulders, everyone telling him he should take up something else, far, far away from any sort of musical instrument, for hobby. A shaky grin shot to his lover, and all he could think to reply with was a rather cocky, “Well, I’ve always been good with my hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m amazed at how I’ve been not writing a lot of porn, lately. This is going to have to change. xD I hope you guys enjoyed~


End file.
